


Unrequited Love

by mrshopkirk



Series: Unrequited Love [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Death, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Love, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Gay Steve Rogers, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Friendship, Mention of torture, Nightmares, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sad Ending, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers-centric, Swearing, Thoughts about suicide, True Love, Unrequited Love, War, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, men kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrshopkirk/pseuds/mrshopkirk
Summary: Steve has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember and he will never stop, even knowing it will forever be unrequited.





	1. Unrequited Love - "before"

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on Tumblr.

“Give me your money!” 

“No!” the girl shrieks, clutching her schoolbag to her chest, her back hitting the brick wall behind her.

“Let her go!”

Turning around the bully is faced with a scrawny boy, dirty blond hair brushed to the side. He’s breathing fast, his fists clenched, taking a fighting stance or something resembling that anyway. The big boy gives him a shove and he’s already stumbling a few steps back though the determination written on his face doesn’t falter.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

The cliché coming from behind him makes the smaller boy cringe. He’s heard it so many times, never ceasing to make him feel insignificant and useless. Giving him no time to answer the tall boy grabs the bully by the arm and pulls him towards his waiting fist. The scrawny boy and girl both turn away when they hear the sound of a bone cracking and then hurried steps in the distance. The only evidence an unsuccessfully bully was there are a few blood drops on the pavement.

“Are you okay?” the taller boy asks the girl putting his arm around her shoulders, flashing her a toothy smile. She blushes, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He turns to the other boy, “Are you coming too?” 

And off they go, both boys flanking the girl, dropping her off at the grey building where she lives. Savoring all the attention the flirty boy gives her, the girl has no eye for the smaller boy who came to her rescue first. But he’s used to his presence not being acknowledged and silently walks away. 

“Hey, where are you going? Wait up.” Pushing himself off the wall he’s leaning against, the tall boy jogs to catch up with the smaller one, the girl nowhere in sight anymore. Offering his hand, he says, “I’m Bucky by the way.” 

“Steve,” is the muttered reply.

For a reason beyond Steve’s comprehension, Bucky seeks out his company since the day they met. First in the schoolyard but soon they are walking to and from school side by side, having dinner at each other’s houses, spending all their free time together. At first Steve thinks it’s some cruel joke Bucky is planning but he seems to genuinely enjoy his company and after a while Steve lets his guard down and fully welcomes the new friendship, his only friendship, one that only strengthens in the years that follow.

Bucky is exciting to be around. He is full of life, charming, funny and kind. Now that he’s in his teens, he turns heads. Lots of them. And boys and girls all furrow their brows when they notice the skinny guy by his side, a sharp contrast to his outgoing personality and mesmerizing looks. More often than not Bucky is asked why he spends all of his time with scrawny, broody Steve. His answer is always the same. 

“Do you have all day? Because I have a whole list of reasons why he’s my best friend.”

Steve doesn’t have a whole list. If anyone would ask him why Bucky is his best friend, why he spends all his time with him, the answer is simple. 

“He’s my everything.” 

Bucky’s the sun that rises in the morning and lights his day. He’s the moon that guides him through the night. He’s the gravity that keeps him grounded so he doesn’t float away, carried by his emotions that make him lightheaded every second of every day. Steve doesn’t remember when Bucky became his everything. Bucky, unknowingly, had just drawn him in and Steve didn’t fight it, he couldn’t fight it, just like sailors can’t fight the enchanting songs of mermaids that lure them to nearby rocks. That’s exactly what Steve is; a lost cause, a shipwrecked sailor crashed against the rock that is Bucky Barnes. 

One afternoon they’re sitting on the rooftop of Steve’s building, Bucky soaking up the sun, his handsome features being conveyed onto paper by Steve’s pencil.

“Why are you my friend, Bucky?”

Bucky turn his head to Steve, disbelief written all over his face. “Are you kidding me, punk?”

“You always say there’s a whole list of reasons.”

“Do you have all day?” There’s that charming smile again.

“I do actually,” Steve answers in a serious tone, looking straight into his eyes looking for the answer there.

Shaking his head, his friend turns back to face the summer sun, a big smirk gracing his face. Steve never gets to hear the list and it irritates him beyond belief but he never asks again. 

It’s rare seeing Steve without a pencil in his hand. When there isn’t one around, he draws in the sand with a stick or with a piece of rock on a wall. His sketchbook is filled with drawings of Bucky, portraits, working at the docks, walking, sitting, and sometimes even posing. Quite a few are Bucky with a girl on his arm. Bucky’s laughing in all of them, an arm looped through his, but the features of the person next to him fade into careful, regular strokes in a soft grey, making it almost ghostlike. The figure is always smaller, frailer, hair pulled back if you assume it’s a girl, but if you’re open minded enough, it might as well be a boy with short hair.

“You draw Bucky a lot, sweetheart,” his mother asks one day.

“He’s just around all the time,” Steve shrugs, hiding the fact he loves to draw the object of his affection.

“I’ve noticed that.” His mother places her cup of coffee on the kitchen counter and looks at him, a watchful expression on her face. “But you also draw him, and him alone, when he’s not here.”

Steve looks up, his breath hitching in his throat, trying to guess by looking at his mother’s features if he’s been caught loving the wrong person. He’s met with an apprehensive smile.

“It’s okay. I’m happy you have such a friend,” she looks at him lovingly, giving him a reassuring smile. “He’s a good boy.” 

Grabbing her purse, she heads towards the door to go grocery shopping. She passes her son, letting her slender fingers slide over his bony shoulders. 

“Just be careful, son,” she kisses the top of his head and murmurs in his hair, “Both of you. We live in a vicious world.” 

He listens to her heels click against the wooden floor and then the tile floor in the hallway. Before she closes the door, Steve finds his voice again and despite the big lump in his throat he manages to croak out the words he doesn’t even want to think, the ones he doesn’t even want to admit to himself because they hurt too much. 

“Don’t you worry, ma.” Her son’s voice makes her step back inside, making sure whatever is said next, stays behind closed doors. “He doesn’t…” his voice breaks and before he can even take another breath, his mother pulls him up and into her arms, placing kisses all over his head. She holds him so tight, not knowing what else to do as words fail her. Steve doesn’t know how long they stand there before she finally speaks, grabbing his shoulders and making him look her straight in the eye.

“Don’t lose hope, Stevie. Your heart is big. There is room for someone else one day. And never, never ever betray who you are. You are you, and you are good. Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently.” 

Steve thought it wasn’t possible for someone as handsome as Bucky to grow even more handsome, but it happened anyway. Entering their late teens, Bucky blossoms into a young man while Steve stays boney, frail and small, except for his feisty temper. That seems to grow more and more each passing day and Bucky sometimes fears it’s going to get the better of him. He sticks by Steve’s side even more, only failing when a pretty girl catches his eye. 

So while Steve’s temper grows, Bucky’s eye for girls grows. But he soon notices that no-one sees the beauty of his friend, taking it upon himself to introduce girls to Steve. After a short while Steve has enough of the continuous disappointment as it, once again, turns out the girl only agreed to go on a double date because that is the only way she can spend time with Bucky. And even though Steve understands the girl, after all he only agrees to these dates as an excuse to spend time with him as well, enough is enough. It hurts Bucky to see it happen time after time, no matter how hard he tries to make people see how amazing Steve is. He never exaggerates when he tells all the good things about Steve though everyone seems to think he does, failing to see it for themselves. 

When Steve leaves for what feels like the hundredth time, he wishes, for once, just once, Bucky would get mad, ditch his date and come after him, but he never does. Bucky loves girls, the attention they give him, the small hands in his big ones, their fingers entwining. The soft skin, sultry voice and delicate fragrance of the girls always keep him there, and the promise of something more. That certain something more Bucky chases, the thrill, the sensation, and the release. He told Steve he’s addicted to the way they moan his name in his ear, the pride he takes in making them feel good, the way he can persuade them by whispering sweet nothings in their ear, how they feel when they fall apart under his touch, the spent look on their faces.

Steve can never compete with that. Bucky always says there is no-one special and Steve has no reason not to believe his friend. He wouldn’t be so upset if it was a special girl that holds Bucky’s heart but every girl holds Bucky’s heart. 

One of the worst days of Steve’s life is a sunny Sunday evening. An evening Bucky and he are sitting on the rooftop of Steve’s apartment building, a place they often spent time together. It’s one of Steve’s favorite places because it’s where he has Bucky all to himself, relishing in the undivided attention of his unattainable love.  
Bucky has been turning his head to Steve every once in a while and biting his lip while he looks him up and down. It is driving Steve crazy, in a good and a bad way. He can only focus on Bucky’s wet lips, red and swollen from biting them. And he feels his body growing hot under the scrutinizing gaze his friend subjects him to. It’s the predatory look Bucky gives some girls before taking them home to do all sorts of sinful things but somehow Steve feels like his body is failing the test, like it isn’t considered good enough. Bucky has drawn a deep breath a few times by now like he is about to speak, but deciding against it every time. It is something Steve has done many times before himself, never been able to follow through with confessing his feelings to Bucky. He can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe, just maybe… But the little hope that blossoms in his frail chest, he stomps on it. 

“I need to tell you a secret,” Bucky finally says. Steve snaps his head up and he swears he can hear the rapid beating of Bucky’s heart. “But you have to swear not to tell anyone. You really have to swear, Stevie. I could get into so much trouble.” His eyes look pleading and Steve’s nods his head.

“Of course, Buck. You know I would never tell.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs, leaning his head back against the brick wall, warmed by the sun. “Promise not to judge me?” He turns his head to Steve.

“I will never judge you, Bucky.”

Smiling at the sincerity of his best friend’s words, he gets lost in the pure blue color of his eyes. Not a bad bone in that boy’s body.

“I kissed a guy.”

And just like that all the air is punched out off Steve’s lungs. It feels worse than the worst asthma attack he’s ever had, worse than almost dying of pneumonia. His heart is ripped out, shred to pieces and thrown back into his face, the universe cruelly laughing with him.

Bucky starts fidgeting his hands, alarmed by the lack of response.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” His voice is slightly trembling.

“How?” Steve’s can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. He breathes out the words. “When?” 

Bucky releases a relieved sigh and leans back against the wall, head still turned to Steve.

“I don’t know. It just happened.”

“It just happened, Buck? That shit doesn’t just happen. Guys don’t just walk up to each other and start kissing! Don’t downplay it.” His words come out harsher than he means to. But it’s Bucky. His Bucky. And Bucky’s mouth, god knows he has longed for that mouth on his for years now, and that mouth kissed another man.

“I was wandering around the docks late one evening after dropping off some dame and I heard some music so I went to see where it came from. And, well, there were some guys there,” he looks at Steve through his eyelashes, his eyes cast down a little now he actually has to say it all out loud. “They were dancing, you know, with each other.”

Steve’s heart is racing. He doesn’t want to know but he needs to know. 

“They were worried they were caught obviously but for some reason I found it exciting. And, I don’t know Steve, I don’t know how or why but all of a sudden one of these guys stood in front of me. And,” he’s talking rapidly now, “he was running his hand down my arm and, fuck, I don’t even remember what he said. I was just looking at his hand and it was softer than I thought it would be and then…” His arms are resting on his knees, his eyes cast downwards. “Then-“

“Look at me,” Steve cuts him off. It’s a demanding voice he has never used before and it makes Bucky uneasy. But he needs to look into Bucky’s eyes. He needs to see it. 

“Well, then he kissed me and… I kissed him back.”

A stake has been driven to Steve’s heart, his vampire heart that needs all of Bucky to survive. He feels like he’s bleeding out, all life draining from him. All the happiness he ever felt in his life is evaporating by each word Bucky utters.

“How was it?” It’s barely a whisper but Bucky hears it nonetheless. 

“Like kissing a girl but the skin is a bit rougher, I guess. His body was warmer, stronger. I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know how to explain!” He has an exasperated look on his face. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Steve whispers. He needs to know. No matter how painful, he needs to know or he’ll spend his whole life wondering. “Did you… did you like it?”

Bucky shrugs. “It was all new, exciting. You know? We kissed a while and then…” he trails off, hands fidgeting again.

“What the fuck did you do, Bucky?” He snaps at Bucky and knows it’s unfair but Bucky’s words set him off.

Bucky takes a deep breath, pretending he doesn’t care, shrugging it off like it’s some everyday thing.

“Well, then he pulled me closer and I could feel his cock against mine. It was hard and all,” Bucky grins, infuriating Steve even more. It’s like Bucky is laughing with him, with what Steve has wanted for so long.

“And yours?” Steve asks through gritted teeth, trying to sound as casual as possible though he’s certain his anger is seeping through. But if it is, his friend doesn’t notice or at least doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Steve, come on!”

“You started it. Now finish it.”

Bucky’s taken aback by Steve’s attitude so he continues.

“It’s not like I was turned on, Steve,” he softly speaks. “But you know, he was grinding his cock against mine, and you know, friction and all that,” Bucky’s blushing. “So yeah, uh, I was, mine was… mine was hard too. Happy now?!” 

He just spits the words out now. He grabs his long forgotten beer, now warm from sitting in the sun, and grimaces. 

“Nothing else happened. We stopped kissing and I left,” Bucky sighs. “I didn’t get turned on kissing the guy, Steve. Just him rubbing against me. A body does that.” He’s so distracted, staring in the distance; he forgets the beer is warm and takes another sip, spitting it out this time. “It happened once. That’s it. Tried it and it’s not for me.”

Steve is barely keeping it together, his emotions raging inside him. He’s mad, hurt, jealous, envious and filled with lust. He wants it. He wanted it. It was his and only his and someone else took it. Bucky’s straight and the only kiss reserved for a guy, that one curious, exploratory kiss that could ever happen… he gave it to someone else. It’s gone. It’s spent. And it leaves Steve wanting. Desperate. Hollow. His heart will be forever wounded in his chest.


	2. Unrequited Love - "the war"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember and he will never stop, even knowing it will forever be unrequited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First posted on Tumblr.

Steve loves to see Bucky drunk. A drunk Bucky is a cute Bucky and a Bucky that leans on Steve while stumbling home. 

“Why is the way home always longer when we’re drunk, Stevie?” Bucky giggles in his ear. 

Steve chuckles. Because I’m taking my time and occasionally take the long route home, he thinks. He drapes Bucky’s arm over his shoulders again, wrapping his own small arm tight around his waist, his other hand supporting Bucky’s front, splayed across his abdomen. A shiver runs down his frail spine when he feels Bucky’s muscles contract beneath his fingers, making them dig in the flesh on their own account. Bucky is laughing too hard, smiling too wide, looking into his eyes too long, and catapulting Steve to a pure state of bliss.

“Steve! You’re tickling me,” Bucky giggles. 

The sound drives Steve crazy. He tickles him again, this time on purpose. The silly sounds coming from Bucky make him groan. Bucky’s still giggling and squirming under Steve’s touch, making him cling to Steve even more. For some God forsaken twisted reason the universe came up with, Bucky had unbuttoned his shirt and while he is trying to stay upright he clutches Steve to his chest. His face is now only a few inches away from Bucky’s bare chest and no matter how hard he tries he can’t tear away his eyes from this perfectly sculpted body. Pushing his guilt and shame far away in some deep and deserted corner of his filthy mind, he inhales all of Bucky’s scent. It’s the sweetest smell that has ever invades his senses.

The day Steve learns Bucky is drafted his lungs almost collapse. Another reason to envy the beautiful and prefect being that is his friend, his love. He’s been rejected so many times, in so many ways, so many times in his short lifetime already. Now that Bucky’s wearing his uniform Steve finds it easier to yell at him. He doesn’t look like Bucky or at least not like his Bucky.  
It’s one of the biggest fights they ever had though Steve can’t actually remember they ever fought before. Steve claims he doesn’t know what it is to be him, to be small, to have a bad health, to be considered unfit to be a soldier, unfit to fight for their freedom, unfit to do anything meaningful. Bucky soon loses his temper, calling him stubborn, ignorant and stupid and that he should consider himself lucky he doesn’t have to go.

In his fury Steve yelled at him, saying he didn’t know what is it like to be undesired. It had taken Bucky aback, not knowing where that came from all of a sudden. For Bucky desire is linked with sex, the opposite sex to be more precise. For Steve it’s linked to the sex standing opposite to him.  
His chest is heaving, fists clenched like he’s about to fight but the only thing he’s fighting is his urge to tell Bucky how he holds his heart, that it’s him he desires, his body, his soul, his heart, every single cell and atom. He wants it all. It’s all or nothing. And nothing it is. He sighs, shoulders slumping, fists falling limp by his side, like they do every time it dawns on him that Bucky will never be his. Not the way he wants him to belong to him.

“Don’t you get it, Steve?!” He looks at Steve with wide eyes, searching his face for a trace of understanding but finds none. He throws his hands up in the air.  
“You really don’t get it, do you punk?” He softly says, sadness taking over the handsome features of his face. But the softness of his voice doesn’t change Steve’s mind.  
“I don’t want to go, Steve,” he whispers. He huffs out a breath. “Look at me, Steve,” gesturing to himself, “look at me.”

Steve looks, more than Bucky will ever realize. He takes in every detail. The slick-backed hair, clean-shaven face, bright blue grey eyes sparkling with life, pearly white teeth, and lips that he could kiss for days on end if only given the chance. And the uniform… It’s not because he’s so stubborn that he’s standing there with his fists tucked in the pockets of his pants. It’s simply to hide the tent that’s forming there. He’s small and frail but he’s certain he could take down Bucky and rip his uniform off before he even hits the ground.

He hears Bucky’s pleading voice again, “Look at me, Steve, look at me.” 

Bucky’s standing there, lost in familiar surroundings, his eyes frantically searching Steve’s.

“I’m looking,” he defiantly says. I’m always looking, he thinks. I have always been looking at you, you idiot. I openly look at you and I secretly look at you. I see you now, I see you in my dreams, I see you in every shadow, I see you in the darkest corner of my soul. Even if I go blind tomorrow, I will still see you clear as day.

“I could really use a friend tonight, Steve,” he looks at the frail man in front of him through his thick eyelashes, a breathy laugh escaping him. “I need you.”

Oh, how he has longed for those words coming from that mouth. He fights the urge to simply close his eyes and let his clouded mind find peace.

“You got me,” he says. “Any way you want,” he adds, looking Bucky straight in the eyes. He means it. Bucky can have him any way he wants tonight, even if it’s just for tonight. He’s willing to sacrifice every single one of his values, to relinquish his all or nothing rule, if Bucky wants him. Just tonight. Just one night. Whatever he wants, it’s his. But he doesn’t take it. Not even when it’s up for grabs. Not even when it’s presented on a silver platter.

So they set out for one last night on the town, just the two of them. Bucky is over the moon at the Stark Expo, he’s practically bursting at the seams and Steve can’t help himself. His smile almost splits his face in half. Bucky’s talking a hundredth miles an hour, smiling, laughing, pointing, grabbing his arm and dragging him to next thing that catches his eye. His hand feels warm on Steve’s arm, the warmth spreading through his whole body, warming his heart. His heart that he so desperately tries to keep cool, afraid the heath of his feelings will otherwise consume him alive. But one touch of Bucky, a friendly touch because that’s all he can get, and he’s a goner. Bucky’s hand fits around his entire upper arm, the hand big on his own arm thin. He knows his body so well, Steve thinks. Grabbing his arm tight enough to drag him along, but the touch soft enough not to hurt him, knowing how easily he bruises. Hours pass, the afternoon slowly fading into the evening, an arm slung over his shoulder, a big hand clapping on his chest whenever Steve makes a joke. Steve has perfected his ability to experience everything in slow motion so Bucky’s hand doesn’t just touch his chest but it goes so slowly it feels like he’s caressing his skin, a soft, slow touch only reserved for loving.

Tonight is all about Bucky, the soldier leaving for war, and he chooses to go drinking. Maybe not the smartest choice considering he’ll be hungover on a boat tomorrow but Steve won’t argue. All that occupies his mind is the prospect of an intoxicated Bucky draping himself over him on the way back to his apartment, the anticipation of which makes his heart thunder in his chest.  
Drink after drink after drink, laugh after laugh, the darker it gets outside, the more the sun is shining for Steve. He relishes the undivided attention Bucky is bestowing on him. He lets himself believe the lie that the long looks Bucky gives him are more than they actually are. Bucky is the one person with whom he can be himself, and the one person with whom he has to pretend to be someone he’s not. The irony of it all wraps itself around his throat like a noose tightening with every second passing by.

“Well, hello there, soldier. Last night in town?” 

Steve slowly closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to see to know what’s going on. He knows exactly the way his friend looks. He’s memorized all expressions of Bucky and if Bucky had done the same he would recognize the pained and hurt look on Steve’s face. He’s gone. He’s lost him.

“Have you met my friend, Steve?” Bucky immediately grabs his shoulder. He’s leaning back on the counter of the bar himself, seductive smile already in place. The two girls don’t give Steve the time of day, but it doesn’t bother him tonight. What makes his jaw clench, is the shameless lust radiating from Bucky. He doesn’t even give a damn who of these girls will go home with him as long as one of them does. A fuck is a fuck.  
All it takes is one drink, a ten-minute conversation filled with sexual innuendos and both girls are tucked under his arms. He turns to Steve to open his mouth, only to find his friend with a blank expression on his face. 

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Genuine concern is etched on Bucky’s face and he lets go of both girls who make a disappointed sound.

Steve lets out a breathy laugh. If he really pushed the matter, he could probably get Bucky so far as to stay with him. 

“Good luck, Buck, and be careful. I’ll see you when you get back.” He pulls him close to give him a hug and a clap on the shoulder.

“Yeah, man,” holding Steve tight, tighter than he usually does, longer too. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can go-“

“Take care, Buck.” Steve’s tone is flat. He can’t help it. He’s protecting himself. He’ll break if he’s not careful. 

Everything about this moment is unnerving Bucky. He’s torn. His body wants the girls, god does it want them. He could rip their clothes off right now and take them behind one of these kiosks at the Expo. Two girls, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity he wants to seize. But his heart says Steve. It’s maybe the last night ever he can spend with him.

When needles prick his skin, injecting cold fluids, knifes cutting his flesh, and he’s repeating his name and service number, he thinks about everything he regrets in his life. All he can think of is not spending his last evening with Steve. He grimaces at his own stupid decision making Hydra think he’s laughing with them. They shock him. I deserved that, he thinks before passing out.

Now that Bucky’s gone, Steve is slowly going crazy. He wakes up alone and goes to bed alone. He doesn’t talk to anybody all day. He roams the streets alone. The rooftop is empty. The dance hall is quiet. Life is empty without Bucky around, void of meaning. His heart and soul is overseas, trying to survive the rattling of gunfire.

So the day Peggy Carter steps into his life is the day a breath of fresh air flows through the life of Steven Rogers. 

"And never, never ever betray who you are." His mother’s words scream at him. I’m sorry, ma, he thinks, I’m so sorry. I have to keep myself safe. I have to pretend. And if there’s a woman he could get used to, it’s her. The red color of her lipstick reminds him of the dames Bucky used to woo. Her hair has the same color as Bucky’s, it looks just as soft too. She has the same confidence and wit as Bucky. She reminds him of him. Maybe he could even grow to love her though he already knows that’s a lie. But just like Bucky, she’s out of his league, not interested. He should be used to it by now, the rejection.

The pain is too much. He wants out of this damn machine. In the background, he hears doctor Erskine and Stark’s voices. He can’t remember why he volunteered.  
Focus, Steve, think of Bucky, he tells himself.

Bucky’s laugh while they sit on the rooftop. Bucky talking about the future, raising a family. Bucky talking about space and the stars. Bucky demanding to be the best man at Steve’s wedding. Bucky planning a trip for the two of them, “across the country, Steve, just you and me”. Bucky cleaning his cut lip after another fight, fingers gently touching, voice softly whispering. Bucky holding his small hand in his big one, a touch like a butterfly before putting on a band aid, muttering under his breath what an idiot he has been again. Bucky checking his face for bruises, cupping his face, slowly turning it from left to right, an adorable frown on his face and so close to his he can feel his breath on his lips. Bucky seeing the tired look on Steve’s face, not realizing Steve’s unable to think dazed by love, giving him the brightest smile he has and it’s just for him. Only him. It’s one of the reasons why he gets in these fights, to be taken care of by Bucky.  
Bucky. He wants to go to Bucky.

The adrenaline that has driven him so far as to defy orders, to go behind enemy lines on his own, is slowly running out.  
If there is a greater force out there, a god, a deity of any kind, Steve is directing all hopes and prayers to it to let him find his friend, his meaning in life. He hopes they will look past his sinner’s love, hopes they will look past the man and to the pureness of it all. If they would tell him what to do, he would do it, no questions asked.  
He will die for him, suffer for him, and do what it takes to keep him safe, do whatever they want him to. Even if that means he has to stop loving him to free him from sins and grace him with life. He would make himself do it. He would kill all he feels, root it out until he is just a shell of a man because he is nothing without his love for Bucky. It’s all he is, all he consists of, pure unadulterated love.  
And if god doesn’t want it, the devil can take his soul. He can take it all if it means he gets him back. You don’t need to drag me to the eternal fire, he promises Lucifer. I’ll jump willingly, whole-heartedly; let the flames engulf me forever. You have to understand, he says, he’s the reason why I was put on this earth. 

For the first time since taking the super soldier serum, Steve feels like he’s about to have an asthma attack again, all air sucked from lungs as he sees Bucky lying on that table. Cold metal draining his body from all the warmth it has to offer to the world. Grey walls and darkness almost succeed in putting out the light in his always-sparkling eyes. A foul stench invades every pore, settling under his skin, replacing the smell that is so typical Bucky, the sweet smell of home, of love. 

I wonder who will take me in the end, god or the devil, Steve thinks. He can’t bring himself to care because Bucky’s here. He walks next to him. The line continues. It’s not the end yet. He’s here. He’s here. 

“No, I don’t want your jacket,” Bucky hisses, looking around uneasily, eyes avoiding the other men. 

“For fuck’s sake, Buck! You just got tortured, you’re malnourished, your clothes are torn and I’m warm, I don’t need it. Just take the damn jacket. It’s not like I have my hands down your pants, is it?” Steve’s fuming. He gets it, the hesitation, Bucky’s apprehension. Two men together, it is considered a mental illness, a court-martial offense. But it is just a fucking jacket.

“Just take it, Buck,” Morita says softly. The rest of the guys nod. “Don’t make a bigger deal out of it than it is.”

“And if you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” another man says, half serious, half-jokingly, trying to put the whole situation to rest.

Bucky puts on the jacket in the end.

Boys will be boys. Soldiers will be soldiers. The inevitable subject of women and sex, the jokes, the crudeness, the cheating, the lying in love letters, falling in love in a foreign country, looking for warm arms to chase the cold horrors away if only for a night, hunting the soft laughter that will drown out the sound of bullets, drinking away what they did or didn’t do. Steve and Bucky find themselves sitting at a bar, pretending all is good while everything is bad.

“Why don’t you just kiss that Carter girl, Steve? Are you scared or something?” Bucky looks at him, not with pity, not mockingly, simply curious. 

Steve snorts. He expected the question sooner or later so needless to say, he was prepared, his excuse at the ready.

“I’m waiting for the right one, Buck. I’m absolutely certain that person is around.” Sighing at the choice of his words, he reminds himself he can’t tell him the truth. Afraid he’ll turn his back on him, deny him his friendship, his company. But he can’t tell him a lie either because the right one is around, in fact he’s sitting next to him, within reach, at arm’s length, but untouchable.

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I just know. It’s a truth staring me right in the face.”

Steve’s words make a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “That’s a beautiful thing, Stevie. It really is.” He rests his hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “Promise me to let me know when you find her?”

Steve wishes he could smack the sincerity of his perfect face.

His ma was right, Steve thinks. The world is indeed a vicious place, especially for gays. The army is extra cruel so it seems and very ignorant for that matter, thinking they destroy morale. 

“Those nancy boys, I don’t want them around, man. They’re useless in combat. They can never be brave under fire. They will never have our backs,” the words are spit out like venom. “They only want our back for something else,” and the soldier barks out a laugh, joined by others sharing the same prejudice.

For what could be the first time in his entire life, Steve doesn’t manage to find the energy to fight an injustice. What if his bravery is indeed just a side effect of the serum? 

“What about that Captain America, man? I mean, he’s gay as fuck, right? Wearing those tights. What kind of a man does that? No real man, that’s for sure.” 

The words pierce his ears. They linger, they’re deafening, they burn his skin. He swallows hard, keeping his gaze down, afraid his fellow soldiers will see the naked truth in them. 

“And that pretty boy Barnes, he’s glued to his side. I’m telling you. Best marksman in the army? I bet his only mark is the Captain’s ass. Gay as fuck.” He punctuates the last words.

The loud clattering of the wooden crate that serves as a table to hold the Commandos beers, draws everyone’s the attention. Bucky stomps over to the soldier with the venomous mouth.

“I’m not even going to ask you to take that back or to apologize,” he hisses through clenched teeth, making the other soldier’s breath hitch, stumbling back a few steps away from the menace that is Bucky. “I’m just going to shut you up.” 

Through the compound the sound of a cracking bone is heard and a body falls limp on the ground. 

Turning to Steve, Bucky says, “I’m with you till the end of the line, pal, even if that means we end up court-martialed because some narrow-minded idiots say we’re gay.” He glances briefly at the soldier squirming on the ground.  
“I’m not going to be less of a friend. I will walk as close to you as I want. I will stand as close to you as I want. And I will let you carry me home when I’m drunk,” he jokingly adds, nudging Steve in the ribs. “And now would be a good time to do so because I’m drunk as fuck and I don’t feel my legs.” 

It makes the Howling Commandos chuckle before returning to their tents. Towering over the soldier still squirming on the ground, Dugan scoffs. “You’re just jealous because your ass wouldn’t look this good in tight pants.”  
He turns back one last time to the stunned crowd and growls, “We all stand as close to our Captain as we want. You come after one of us, you come after all of us.” 

Day after day, week after week pass. Every mission they fight side by side. Brothers in arms, friend next to lover. Bucky doesn’t know Steve loves him and Steve doesn’t realize Bucky’s fighting for him and only him. Bucky doesn’t give a shit about this war anymore. His mission is to keep Steve alive. Every time he squeezes the trigger, every man he kills is one man less that can kill Steve. In every empty gun shell he sees the reflection of their rooftop, in every muddy print he sees Steve’s drawings.

Countless times Steve has reached out for Bucky, to touch his face and that stubble on his jaw, to brush a hair out of his face while he’s sleeping but never while he was awake, and never with as much desperation as now. The cold is eating away at his fingertips; the rush of wind is tearing at his hope. In his dream Bucky reciprocates his passion for him, reaches out for an embrace, but this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Bucky’s calling out his name. Why isn’t it me dangling at the edge of this train?  
“Bucky, come on! Just a little further!” He’s shouting, his words echoing of the mountains.

“I can’t, Steve. I-“ Bucky’s breathing fast, the cold air he’s inhaling is paralyzing his muscles, freezing his fingers. With every passing second, he becomes more and more certain of his faith. Steve’s desperately trying to reach him but if he comes closer he’ll fall. Bucky has to stop him.

“Steve.” He tries again, “Stevie.” 

It’s a whisper but his friend hears it anyway. Bucky sees the face that has been there whenever he turned his head left or right, always there like a lighthouse showing him where home is. It calms him. 

“It’s okay, Stevie. It’s okay.”

The blue eyes that have spent a lifetime next to him fade in the sky above him, the fair skin into the white snow on the mountains. It’s okay, he thinks, he was with Steve till the end of the line.

Steve looks at Peggy’s picture but only sees Bucky. The blue of the ice and ocean below remind him of Bucky’s eyes. It’s okay, he thinks, I was with Bucky till the end of the line. I am ready, ready for heaven or hell.


	3. Unrequited Love - "now"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember and he will never stop, even knowing it will forever be unrequited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First posted on Tumblr. Not following the storyline of Civil War.

When Steve wakes up, the war is over, they won. It’s been seventy years for the world but only yesterday for him. No-one ever bothered to look for Bucky’s body. The flesh he once loved, still loves, was left to rot. He can’t even blame them. He didn’t look for him either. Bucky would have looked for him though. He would have turned every snowflake on those mountains to find him. And all Bucky got is one of his uniforms on display in a museum, a stop on a tour for tourists, and his name etched on a wall long after it was already etched in Steve’s soul.

And here Steve is, alive and not well. Nobody cares, not really anyway. They only want the altered, the better version of him. They want Captain America. He only agrees to wear another monkey outfit because Bucky liked it. It all started with me, Steve thinks. I wanted to be someone, show the world I was someone while all along Bucky already thought I was someone. I was his best friend. That should have been enough. Steve looks at the man in the mirror again, the man with the new cowl and freshly painted shield. At least Bucky liked me for me, that frail miserable piece of shit that was Steven Grant Rogers.

Steve looks at the drawing in the sketchbook balanced on his knees. The events of the past few days play on a loop in his mind. The words haunt him.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The coldness, with which the words were spoken, chilled Steve to the bone. He was sure they would crack and break if he moved an inch. Bucky’s voice always had the unique ability to bring Steve to his senses, to calm him whenever he got all riled up again. His voice always snapped him out of it and it did so now too. He had turned him from a soldier into the little boy from Brooklyn again and he hasn’t found his way back to the now yet.

He starts drawing again, trying to still the voice in his head. On his request Peggy destroyed his old sketchbooks if he were to die. There was too much Bucky in them and would raise too many questions. But he was sure he could redraw everything he had once drawn by memory. Now he found himself looking at the sketch of the so-called winter soldier. Bucky with a muzzle, void of his own voice, unable to word his thoughts, unable to smile. The eraser tip on the pencil taps against his lips, his fingers float over the black raw strokes with which he drew the uncompromising portrait. It’s far from his usual style but frail lines seemed inappropriate. Without much thinking he starts erasing the muzzle, the black lines smearing across the paper. Line by line he starts drawing a smile and with that smile the black smudge around his eyes doesn’t fit so he erases that too. Steve is surprised how little it takes to make Bucky's features resurface from the grim winter soldier. Droplets of tears smudge the paper now. They are tears of joy because his mind is set. It will take little to find his Bucky again, Steve thinks, the drawing showed him. In his determination he fails to see his own naivety.

Steve closes his eyes. He lets go, lets go of the pain he’s feeling, the bruises, the blood seeping from the wound. Steve knew the grim reaper would come for him eventually but he never imagined he would come in the shape of Bucky, wielding his scythe in the shape of a metal arm, effective, haunting. His vision blurs more and more with every blow.

“YOU ARE MY MISSION!” Each word is punctuated with a brutal, forceful punch.

“Then finish it. Cause I’m with you till the end of the line.”

His body goes limp. Take me, take all of me. My fight is over. If I can’t have you, then I don’t want anything. He feels Bucky’s breath on his face, his eyes as blue as the last time he saw them.

“It's okay, Bucky. It's okay. I was with you till the end of the line.”

Bucky’s eyes blink rapidly; the words stirring a memory buried deep within him, hidden in the depths of what is still him, of what is left of his essence, the core of his self.

Shake it off. Forget. _Forget._ They will bring pain. The pain will come if you don't comply, if you fail. His brain keeps repeating it but another part of him sees a way out after hiding all these years. There’s a beacon of light in the shape of blue eyes, eyes that show the world, an entire lifetime stored in these two gems.

“Come back to me, Buck. We don't have much time. If you're still there, come back to me.” Steve breathes out the words and they’re calling Bucky home.

The pauses between the punches become longer, giving Steve some time to think. His Bucky, dressed in black with long unkempt hair framing his face, casting shadows over his angelic features. The ray of sunshine that has lit his world every minute of every day, that has kept him alive in the ice, has turned to darkness. A darkness that brought sorrow, death and pain to so many, unwillingly and forced.

“I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Bucky. I'm sorry I don't know how to save you this time either.” Steve has to force the words out of his mouth. “But I won't let them take you again. I promise. They will not take you again. You're coming with me. Till death do us part.”

Steve always knew he was meant for hell. He became more and more convinced after time passed by. His sins would never be forgiven and yet he still has to commit the biggest sin of them all, his last one. He will never be forgiving for taking an innocent life, willingly.

He slowly wraps his legs around Bucky's, like a snake constricting its prey, going for the kill because there is no other way. His legs are strong, stronger than Bucky's so it seems, pulling him closer to his body. His left arm wraps around the man his heart belongs to and his right arm reaches out to the forgotten shield. He grabs it and delivers a crushing blow to the glass of the helicarrier they're lying on. And they tumble; tumble to the depths below them. Bucky stares at the water closing up on him, his eyes wide. Steve repeats his sorries over and over again like a broken record, encasing Bucky's body more and more, carving a tomb out of his body perfectly molding himself around him. If they find them, they will not be able to pry them apart. As the end is near, Steve knows he has to say it at least once.

“I love you.”

And everything goes black.

 

Another two years without Bucky are added to Steve’s life. Two years of barely feeling alive. Steve has seen a lot of the world by now. Mostly from behind his shield, focused on inflicting pain. He never expected to find Bucky in Bucharest of all places but he’s been here a while now, sitting at this table, looking at the plum Bucky offered him. A plum. Right, I got a “hi” and a plum. Better than a metal fist to the face or a knife in the back but still.

Turning the soft purple fruit in his hand Steve thinks about the situation he finds himself in. It's surreal. When he opened his eyes after he took Bucky with him from the helicarrier, he expected to find himself in a dark place filled with piercing screams of lost souls, not alone, cold and wet on the bank of a river. And now he's sitting opposite him at this dodgy table in a crummy apartment in a depressing grey building that smells like mold.

Steve looks around the apartment void of personal touches that would give away anything about its occupant. One thing draws his attention, one thing he didn’t think Bucky would have.

He points towards a sketchbook. “You draw?”

“Not really.” Bucky’s voice sounds scratchy like he hardly uses it. “I keep seeing these drawings, really beautiful ones and it seems like I’m holding them in my hands, like my real hands.” Bucky swallows hard, tucking his left hand under the table. “So I figured I used to draw but I can’t. Not really anyway. They’re no good.” Bucky lifts his gaze to Steve and smiles fondly. “But in my mind they’re so, _so_ beautiful. I like to just close my eyes and think about them. They’re the only truly beautiful things in my mind.”

Where Bucky’s mind is filled with his drawings, Steve’s mind draws a blank right now. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek and bounces his knee. When the rhythmic movement stills, Steve is pulled from his thoughts.

“Do you,” Bucky clears his throat, “do… _you_ … draw?”

Steve nods, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Bucky. I do.”

“I figured it had something to do with you.” Bucky scratches at the surface of the table before looking up at Steve, a smile gracing his face. “Everything good has something to do with you.”

God, he missed that smile. He missed him. Steve has made poor choices. He tried to numb the pain of the emptiness of his lost soul but nothing worked. Looking at Bucky now, he understands his soul only needs Bucky. He belongs with him and only him.

“Do you want to come home, Bucky? Will you come home with me?”

No matter how many times Steve assures him of the deal Sam and Tony made guaranteeing his safety, Bucky doesn’t believe it but he follows Steve anyway. He trusts him and even if he were lying, Steve would only lie for a good reason. If Steve thinks he should go to jail then he will go. If he thinks he should be terminated, then so be it. Steve will make the right decision for him and he’ll take his judgment without questioning.

Bucky’s nervous, fidgeting with the straps of the small backpack he’s carrying. He looks like a bizarre mix between a little boy going on a field trip and a tired man walking towards his execution. Steve’s hand is on his shoulder while they walk towards the Quinjet.

“Are they going to put me away?”

“No, Sam and Tony have made a deal. And I would never let anyone take you.”

“They’ll still try, won’t they?” he all but whispers.

“No, not unless you try the bomb the UN or something.” Steve tries to joke to lighten the mood and stop Bucky’s spiraling thoughts. “And even then I won’t let them take you.”

“You’d fight the entire world?” Bucky shakes his head at the absurdity of the idea.

“What do you think, Bucky?”

“I think that some things never change.”

He can’t admit it to anyone but even if Bucky chose to do all those things readily, he’d still take his side. He’d side with evil.

 

 

Steve’s days at the tower are spent trying to look past it all and getting used to a new Bucky. It’s still his Bucky though. Nothing will ever change that. But it’s hard to look at this beautiful man and see the Brooklyn exterior filled with what Hydra left him. And Steve slips sometimes. He’s craved Bucky’s presence for so long that it’s hard to give him time to adjust.

“Look at me, Steve. Look at me,” Bucky pleads.

Steve’s eyes land on him. He looks like the Bucky the night before he left for war, desperate, needy. Steve’s breathing picks up and his throat tightens.

“I will never be that Bucky again, Steve. You have to face that fact one day. Just like me.” His voice is soft, like satin caressing his skin. “You’re not the Steve from my memories anymore either. You’re not frail anymore. You’re not about to die coughing anymore.”

Steve relaxes visibly but the words Bucky utters next he never expected. It’s like looking at himself in a shattered mirror. Bits and pieces of himself that are razor sharp around the edges, ready to cut into pieces whatever reaches out to touch him. Only a metal arm can’t get cut.

“It’s not your exterior, Steve,” Bucky sighs. “I mean, you, as in my friend I grew up with. When I close my eyes I see you drawing, always. I hear your jokes.” His voice is getting more desperate by the minute. “Where is your smile, Steve? Where is your pencil and paper? Where are _you_?”

Bucky’s right. He isn’t the same person anymore either. He’s still lost somewhere in that ice, still frozen in some places. The irregular breathing of Bucky draws his attention and he chokes on his own breath when he sees the tears falling down his love’s face. Instinctively he wants to take a step forward just as Bucky speak again.

“Where’s that look you used to give me? Like you,” he runs his hands through his hair looking for the right words, “like you thought the world of me?” Hurt is etched across his face, tears falling freely now. “That look is replaced by pity, Steve. Pity. You pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, Buck. I pity myself.”

His voice sounds harsh like it always does these days. His voice has changed. He doesn’t hold back anymore, disgust for himself consumes him. Steve has never seen Bucky cry before. Not once. And now he of all people is the reason for those tears.

“You want me back? Well, I want you back too. Everything good I remember has something to do with you, even if it was simply taking care of you or watch you draw of sitting on that good damn rooftop. Seeing you like this…” Bucky gestures to Steve, “this huge version of you. I see everything the war represents. You’re everything I want to remember but you’re also a constant reminder of everything I want to forget. And I don’t know how to do this, Steve. I just know I need _you_.”

It’s not fair to Bucky. He deserves more than Steve can offer him right now. He deserves more than watching his friend walk away from after laying his feelings on the table like this. It’s the first time ever that Steve has turned his back on his friend coldly, leaving him crying in his wake and it makes him feel nauseous.

Listening to the fading sounds of Bucky calling his name, Steve gets lost in his chaotic mind. Bucky never lost his kindness, he thinks. I did though. I lost my kindness for the world a long time ago. It was my choice. He always gracefully dealt with whatever life gave him, making right other’s mistakes like mine, breaking up the fights that I started, and what Hydra made him do. It’s an endless loop for him yet he is never tired. The war and Hydra made him lose his way for a while but he found his way back, with or without my help.

But I’ll try to protect you from that darkness now. I see what you really are, a light in a dark world. They tried to put out the candle, kill the root of the tree but they failed. You’re a fighter, like me, but smarter. You pick your battles carefully whereas I blindly punch and kick, waiting for you to guide me. I am no good without you. No matter what weapons they ever trusted into your hands, your hands were only made for caring. And I give you my all, my love. I place it in your hand. I don’t care if you hold it with your soft, warm right hand or the cold, tireless, dangerous left one, I trust you. And I’m begging for your forgiveness. Please, forgive me even though I’m too stubborn to actually ask you myself.


	4. Unrequited Love - "now"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember and he will never stop, even knowing it will forever be unrequited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First posted on Tumblr. Not following the storyline of Civil War.

The nights at the tower are awful. Everyone tries to act normal around Bucky so he doesn't feel like more of a freak than he already labeled himself. But the truth is they fear the gut-wrenching screams at night. At some point or another they have all found themselves in the hallway facing his door. Sometimes they fall asleep waiting until Steve emerges again after he has calmed Bucky down. They feel helpless listening to the torturous sounds of Bucky who is trapped in his own mind.

 The one person that is always there is Nat. First because she wanted to make sure that Steve had back-up should he have to fight off the Winter Soldier. After a while because she wanted to make sure Steve knew he had a friend waiting for him outside that door. And after that because she wanted to help Steve pick up the pieces of his broken heart. She prides herself in being able to read people and while waiting on the cold tile floor of the tower she found a hidden chapter in the book of the life of Steven Rogers. Her stoic face doesn’t reveal anything but she’s figured it out. She found his weakness and his strength, Bucky Barnes, the love of his life.

“You know,” she gently places her hand on his shoulder while walking him back to his room, “times are different now. You don't need to hide this kind of stuff anymore.”

He whips his head at her but immediately knows there is no point in lying to her.

“Yeah, I do, Nat,” he sighs. “I need to hide it from him.”

“But-“

“No, Nat, he doesn't know, he never will and he will never feel the same.” He’s trembling, exhaustion and a lifetime of burying his feelings taking over. “I’m so tired, Nat. I’m trying to hold on but I’m so tired I just want to let go.”

It’s the only night in his life Steve Rogers ever slept in a woman’s arms. The night Natasha Romanoff’s frail frame tries desperately to keep him from falling apart in a million pieces so he can get up in the morning and pretend that nothing is wrong.

Since his search for Bucky, Steve has always wondered if he’d go to heaven or hell. If it was God or the devil that answered his desperate pleas in those dark forests where he had forsaken his soul. He understands now. He’s already here. He’s already in heaven and hell right now. Life with Bucky is heaven and hell.

 _Be careful what you wish for_ , his ma once said. _It might come true._

God and the devil kept their promise. They let him find Bucky but they denied him his love.

Some mornings Bucky doesn't say a word simply because he lost his voice from screaming for hours on end. Everyone hopes Steve’s presence calms Bucky but the truth is, it doesn't. Most of the time he doesn't wake up, doesn't acknowledge his presence. He is stuck. Stuck in his mind, stuck in his past, stuck in Hydra’s web, twisting and turning to free himself but the bed sheets just tighten around his body like restraints tying him down. The only thing Steve can do is free him from the bed sheets. That's all he does. And listen. Listen to hours of endless cries of his name. Bucky’s screaming for Steve to come and get him, to rescue him like he did before. He screams profanities at his handlers. Fights like a lion telling them to bring it on with everything they got. Begging them for death the next moment. Begging with a quivering voice to not use the machine followed by piercing screams, hours on end, repeating Steve’s name over and over again. Night after night Steve sits numbed next to Bucky on the floor.

The worst night of them all was a quiet night though.

“Why don't you come for me, Steve?” Sobs are heard in the hallway. “Have you forgotten me?”

Steve has been sitting slumped against a wall all night. Just like all other nights, deeming himself unworthy to enjoy the comfort of the couch while his friend relives all his nightmares as if it weren't enough to experience it once. He doesn't find the strength in him to walk over. He crawls to his friend’s side.

“Never. I have never forgotten you. How could I? You and I, we’re together till the end of the line, Bucky.”

“Steve? Steve, are you here?” His voice sounds horse. Steve turns on the little light on his bedside table and feels a calloused hand on his cheek. “Steve… You're really here.” Tears roll down Bucky's face, making the dark circles under his eyes glisten in the soft light and he smiles. “You came for me. I knew you would.”

Steve puts his hand over Bucky’s and leans into his touch.

“Can I get you something, Bucky? Water?” He gently sweeps Bucky's wet locks of hair from his face, obscuring it like a tangled web.

Steve makes his way to the door only to already find a tray with some crackers and water. A smiling Nat gives him wary a thumbs up. The rest of his friends are standing there tired and broken but with a somewhat relieved look on their worn out faces.

Bucky's nightmares diminish a little after that night, the night that changed the outcome of his past, the torture he endured. While he still screams and trashes around he somehow knows deep down Steve is there to help him wake up. He knows they are dreams. Steve is reality. Steve is good. Life can be good again.

Every night he asks Steve the same question.

“Will you stay with me?”

And every night Steve watches Bucky fall asleep.

My darling, if you knew how I felt, if I told you, would you stay? Would you still look at me the way you do now? We have both changed so much. There are so many new things I have to learn about you. I curse the time we have spent apart. I curse myself. You're the one I want to grow old with. See our bodies crumble, tired lines etching their way on our faces. I want to watch your body grow weak just as I saw it grow strong and I'll still worship it. You're beautiful in every shape or form. I was there when you turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly. I saw you after they tore off your wing and forced you to crawl at their feet, your beautiful colors buried under the dust of the catacombs.

At least that's what I thought you were, a beautiful butterfly. But you proved me wrong. You're not frail. You're meant for a longer life, for more than just a life in the sunshine. You're a Phoenix. You rise from the ashes and fly higher than ever before. You leave everyone in awe. They knew. Those fuckers knew. You are not a man to be brought down. They couldn't even handle you at your worst. I don't think I want to know what you can do at your best. You're starting a new life by arising from the ashes of your old one. You will create your own life now, write your own story from now on. I'll gather some of your ashes and keep them with me. I'll mourn over what I have lost but rejoice that you have been set free.

If you need to be reminded of who you once were, come to me. If you want company in your journey to find out who you are now, I will come. Please, let me come. I want to be part of you, all of you. Don't leave me behind even though I deserve it. After all, I left you behind once too.

 

“The right one? Who are you? Steve?” Bucky chuckles at Nat’s words. Who in his right mind comes up to a recovering Winter Soldier and asks if he's met the right one yet.

“Well, was there one? _The_ one?”

He stares ahead blankly.

“I would have remembered by now, wouldn't I?” He looks at her. “I started remembering the most important people in my life in Bucharest. My ma and pa, my sisters, Steve and his ma. Part from that, a string of pretty faces and half naked bodies.”

Nat cocks an eyebrow and rolls her eyes in mild disgust mostly out of loyalty to Steve, an action missed by Bucky. He misses a lot of his surroundings when he focuses on remembering and memories.

“If there was a special girl I would have remembered her by now.” He turns his head to her and shrugs. “That's what I think anyway.”

A lopsided smile shows on his face and he shakes his head.

“If there ever was a special person in my life, it's Steve. He was always there, never ever let me down, _never_ ,” he stares at Nat intensely. “And I let him down so many times. I left his side so many times and for what? Some nameless pretty piece of flesh. He's been nothing but good to me. Best friend anyone could ask for.” The distress in his voice is obvious. He isn’t able to control emotions just yet.

Bucky is in that place where Nat likes her prey. That vulnerable place, their thoughts so focused they let down their guard. That’s when she strikes, quick and deadly. This is the time, the opportunity she needs to seize.

“So… _he's_ the one for you?” She tentatively asks, knowing this is still a touchy subject for men from the forties, social prejudice embedded deep in their minds.

“He’ll always be the one,” a sincere but cocky smile on his face, the hardship of the life he endured softening for only a moment, “but not like you mean. I love him, more than I will ever love someone, more than I ever thought I could love someone, but I'm not in love with him.” He mauls over his words for a moment and Nat is patiently waiting him out, still hoping against hope. “I’ll stay by his side though, you know, till the end of the line.””

Nat looks him in the eye all the time, making sure she doesn’t miss a thing, doesn’t miss the hint of a lie but she comes up with nothing. It is the truth he's telling her. The naked cruel truth. It’s love, Nat thinks. True love. Jut not that kind of love. And Steve deserves more, more than Bucky can give him.

“What if you meet someone, a girl?”

“Girls are the last thing on my mind, Nat. Hydra did a good job at wiping out a lot of things they deemed unnecessary for an assassin. They made sure I didn’t _want_ anything, that nothing could… _happen_.”

He casts his eyes down in embarrassment, at the admission of something so private, at the memory of the painful procedure Hydra enjoyed performing. He knows he can tell Nat. She understands but it still hurts to say it out loud.

It’s why he doesn’t care about naked women, about sex scenes in movies. It does nothing to his body. There is no desire. No need. No want. It’s why he can’t figure out if there’s maybe something more about Steve. They were always together and he remembers the touch of a man’s lips on his. Was it Steve? He’s afraid to ask because if there ever was something more, he doesn’t feel it anymore.

Bucky remembers some things now. Steve patiently answers any questions Bucky has about anything, everything, trying to piece back together his life. These things include girls. Of course they include girls, Steve thinks. They will always include girls, enough girls to last a fucking lifetime. He definitely fucked enough girls to last a lifetime.

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Did I,” he clears his throat. “Did I ever kiss a guy?”

Steve stiffens, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky.

“Never mind. I just-“

“Yeah. Yeah, you did. Just a one-time thing though,” he sighs.

A heavy silence settles between them. Bucky keeps throwing sideway glances at Steve, trying to figure out why his friend is upset but only coming to one conclusion, the most obvious one.

“So… uh, you’re opposed to that?” He cautiously asks. “To men being together?”

Steve shakes his head laughing at the wry irony of it all and does what he does best. He looks at Bucky and opens his heart this one last time, savoring the pain that comes with feeling the love he holds for Bucky, his Bucky that will never be his.

“No, Bucky. I think love is a wonderful thing, no matter who loves who. I never once thought it was bad, not even in Brooklyn when everyone thought it was just for perverted minds. Neither did you I may add.”

Bucky stares in the distance, giving Steve free reign to look at his features. They’re just as majestic as they were when they were growing up together. His jawline, the little dents in his ears, the long eyelashes, his skin a bit more tanned than his own fair one. They still have him mesmerized. And those long, soft, dark brown locks he has now. They make Steve’s heart flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to run his hands through them. Just once. Tug at them. Just once. Burry his nose in them. Just once. Once.

“Why do you ask?” He just needs to know now. Afraid the subject will never be brought up again, even now when the times have changed.

“I had a vague image of a man kissing me, but I,” he sighs and his brows are furrowed. It pains Steve every time he sees it happen. He wants to tell him everything will be okay even if it’s the biggest lie he would ever tell.

“I didn’t know whether it really happened. Or when. Or who it was.” He blinks rapidly, trying to remember but failing. He turns to Steve, wanting to complete the memory, own it again. “Was it…uh, you?”

Steve forces a small forced smile on his face. “No.”

Bucky inhales deeply, not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

“Some guy by the docks. That’s all you ever told me. I don’t think you knew who it was either.”

“Great,” Bucky chuckles, “kissed a total stranger by the docks.”

“He kissed you first actually.”

“I wasn’t even in charge, even greater,” his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. After a few moments he turns to Steve. “Do you know why?”

“You said you wanted to try it. It was new, exciting, and adventurous.” He sighs.

Steve replays that evening in his mind. He has done that many times over the years, thinking about the looks Bucky gave him and him biting his lip. Pretending it was for him, that he wanted him. Steve imagines it was him running his hands over Bucky’s arms at the docks. If he tried hard enough, he could even smell the salty water and hear it splashing against to dock. He only kissed Peggy to know what it feels like to have soft, warm lips pressed against his own so he could better pretend it was Bucky kissing him. It is the only thing he has that comes close to loving Bucky and he smiles thinking about it for the first time with Bucky sitting so close to him.

He closes his eyes and lets Bucky’s smell engulf his senses, feels his friend’s body radiate against his own skin. He’s here. He’s really here. He’s close, _so_ close. I could touch his hand if I wanted too, he thinks. Slowly he opens his eyes, realization dawning on him. Bucky was never afraid to hug him, as a friend, but still it was hugging nonetheless. All these years in this new world, he has been deprived, and has deprived himself of physical contact. The only time he has held someone for longer than a hug was the night he spent with Nat. Steve longs for warmth. He craves it. He looks at his fingers, slowly moving on their own, inch by inch making their way cautiously over to where Bucky’s big calloused hand is resting on the ground. Just a touch. Just one touch. But it isn’t meant to be. It never was. Bucky’s voice sets his hopes and longings on fire, burning them in a fire so violent that nothing but ashes is left.

“I’ve had the hands of so many men on me, hurting, cutting, hitting” Bucky stares in the distance, “I don’t want a single man touching me ever again.”

Without missing a beat, Steve answers, the irony and sarcasm completely lost on his friend. “Don’t worry, Bucky. I’ll personally make sure no man will ever get near you.”

 

Bucky smiles at him, his friendship is unconditional. Requited.

Steve smiles back, his love is unconditional. Unrequited.

 

Ma was wrong after all, Steve thinks to himself. His heart is indeed big, but there isn’t room for anyone else. Bucky has claimed it all. Even after more than 70 years, it still belongs to him and only him.


End file.
